<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Memories That You Can't Take Back by QueenOfNewOrleans22</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576775">Memories That You Can't Take Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bon Jovi (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Richie tried to kiss Jon, it was met with a flinch, and Jon twisted his head away, lips pressed thinly as he dodged. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Bon Jovi/Original Female Character(s), Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Memories That You Can't Take Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                         ------<strong>1984-----</strong></p><p> </p><p>The first time Richie tried to kiss Jon, it was met with a flinch, and Jon twisted his head away, lips pressed thinly as he dodged. </p><p>Richie had been awaiting the moment since forever, a burning desire that'd first blossomed when they'd first set eyes upon each other in that dark bar that Richie wouldn't have ever stepped foot in otherwise, if not for the fact that he knew a <em>good </em>band was supposed to be playing there and, hey, what else was he supposed to do? Richie had been gathering his courage from that single minute in time when blue eyes had met his own, and, as they sat, trading lyrics, Richie had taken his chance. </p><p>But Jon had dodged it, his eyes mournful as he stared at Richie behind his hair, it became so quiet that Richie could've heard a pin drop. Jon pushed himself away and Richie looked down at his legs, his grip tight on the neck and body of his guitar. It was stiff and quiet and uncomfortable, and Richie felt his face flush red in embarrassment. He loved taking chances, but hated the aftereffects of what happened when his chances blew back up in his face. </p><p>"I'm sorry." Richie said, grabbing his notebook and his guitar. "I'll go right now, okay?" Richie didn't want to look up, because he knew what he'd see, and it'd be anger, because Richie had obviously judged the situation wrong. Richie didn't know what was going to come next, and he didn't want to think about that, because it made him feel small, and scared, and ashamed. </p><p>Jon jumped across the bed, and he grabbed Richie's wrist, but his grip was weak and fragile and Richie could've broken free with just a single step. "Please don't, I mean, if-" Jon shrugged and pulled away, looking at the wall and the poster, peeling away from age and misuse. </p><p>For a minute, Richie wanted to walk away, and not deal with the problem at hand, because he had just tried to kiss his best friend, and rejection sat heavily in his stomach. Richie looked at the door, and wondered what would happen after he left. He couldn't just come to practice the next day and pretend everything was okay, just like that. Richie had never been a good actor, especially when it came to his feelings. "Okay." He said. </p><p>Slowly, Richie sat his guitar against the wall, placed the notebook on the bed, and then sat down. He looked down at the blanket, playing with a loose thread, needing something to distract his eyes and hands. Richie took a deep breath, and then he looked back up. "So," Richie said quickly and quietly, wanting to get all the pain over with. "I guess that I, um, misjudged the situation." </p><p>"What?" Jon said. </p><p>Richie shrugged weakly. "You don't like me...like that? Right?" Richie said, rubbing the back of his neck, wishing that he hadn't taken his chance for once. "That's why you ducked away. I'm sorry, I guess that I just got carried away." Richie didn't know, he really didn't, but he felt obligated to say it. </p><p>"Oh, Rich, no." Jon shook his head. "I do like you. God, you think I wake up in the middle of the night to talk to just anybody?" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which remained dull and rather lifeless. </p><p>"Then why, Jonny?" Richie asked, feeling his heart pounding against his ribcage, hearing his own desperation. Richie leaned forward slightly, feeling like a desperate teenager who'd just gotten rejected by their crush. "<em>Why?" </em>He repeated.</p><p>"<em>Because </em>I..." Jon broke off abruptly, playing with his hands anxiously. </p><p>"Is it your parents? Are you afraid that they'll, y'know?" Richie asked. "Because, man, let me tell you, your mom and dad are about the only two people in Jersey who would let their son hang out with his male best friend all the time and not bat a fucking eye." Richie said. </p><p>Jon smiled, shaking his head. "Nah." He whispered, and then his smile fell away, and he stood up to walk over to the door and carefully peer out into the hallway, where his mother was prone to lurking whenever members of the band came over because she was always so worried, where his father often pretend to rearrange the books on the shelf just so he could eavesdrop and ease some of his anxiety. '<em>Ha. They don't even know half of it.' </em>Jon thought. </p><p>"Then what?" Richie asked, and he could've started to tear his hair out, just because he was so frustrated. He couldn't bear the unanswered questions any longer, because they were driving him insane. Richie could feel his heart pounding and his mind was racing, and he couldn't deal with the anxiety. </p><p>Even though his mother would admonish him for it, and even though he loathed to do it himself, Jon shut the door. Nosy little brothers and nosy mothers and fathers often drove Jon to the brink sometimes, they really did. "Bad things." Jon said carefully, as if he was picking and choosing his words from a pile. </p><p>"What bad things, Jon? What bad things are we talking about?" Richie wasn't sure if he wanted to know, if he could hear and understand the response that would come to him, if he could stand to listen. Richie curled his fingers into the blanket, unsure of what he was about to hear. </p><p>Jon looked at him for a minute. His blue eyes looked suspiciously wet, and he turned his head away. "It'd just make it worse." He muttered. </p><p>"No offense, but things can't get much worse." Richie replied in a soft tone, standing up, seeing Jon wince and turn his face away. Richie walked across the room, and reached out to slowly grab Jon's shoulder. "What are you not telling me?" Richie whispered. </p><p>"A lot of things, Rich." Jon looked down, allowing his bangs to obscure his face, which had significantly paled. He walked away, and Richie's hand fell to his side. </p><p>Jon grabbed his notebook and began to flip the pages. He looked surprisingly stoic, all things considered. Richie watched him. "Should I leave? Do you want me to leave?" Richie asked, even though he didn't want to, suddenly. But he could tell that Jon was uncomfortable, and Richie wondered if he was the cause. </p><p>"No." Jon snapped the notebook shut and then tossed it onto the bed. He looked at the door, and then up at Richie's face. "God, please don't leave. I don't think I could handle that....do you wanna leave? Fuck it." Jon dragged his hands through his hair, looking increasingly forlorn. </p><p>"I want to know what happened." Richie said. "I want to know why you didn't let me kiss you, why we're standing here, talking in circles." He sat back down the bed, feeling strangely defeated, and not liking it one bit. </p><p>"I like you, you know that?" Jon sat down beside Richie, slinging his arm over the other man's shoulder. "I like you more than I've ever liked anybody else, okay? And I don't take that shit lightly." He paused. </p><p>"But?" Richie prompted. </p><p>Jon averted his eyes. "Please don't make me do this, man." He said. </p><p>And Richie didn't. He really didn't want to hear it, anyways, didn't want to hear Jon recount some sordid tales from his childhood. So he just nodded. "Okay." </p><p>                                    ---------<strong>1986</strong>--------</p><p>The second time Richie tried to kiss Jon, it was met with a shy smile, and Jon allowed Richie to kiss him. It was everything Richie had thought and hoped and dreamed about, and so much more. Jon didn't push back, and he only watched when Richie pulled away. </p><p>"You're a good kisser." Richie said, hoping to ease some of the obvious tension and anxiety. "Everything I dreamed about, baby." He smirked, eyes shining in the dim light of the dark night. Richie leaned back on the couch, and took a deep breath, wanting to feel Jon's lips against his own again, but he couldn't. Not yet. </p><p>Jon pressed his lips together. "Was I?" He said faintly, looking away. Jon seemed to contemplate something, and then he smiled. "You are too, Rich." He added, practically pushing the words out from his throat. </p><p>"Are we doing this again?" Richie asked, moving his head so he could try and catch Jon's eye again. "Because, babe, I gotta say, I hope this conversation goes better than it did last time." Richie remembered their last talk about it as good as the day it had happened. </p><p>"I don't - um." Jon exhaled heavily. He pressed his hand against his chest, and laughed softly. "Oh, God." He whispered, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the way out. </p><p>"What?" Richie said. </p><p>Jon shook his head and closed his eyes. "My chest feels heavy." He replied. </p><p>"Anxiety." Richie mumbled. "Just take a deep breath. We don't have to talk about this." He added. </p><p>"No..." Jon took another deep breath. </p><p>They sat in a stretch of silence, one only broken by Jon's frenetic breathing and the traffic outsude. Richie sat, patient and silent, wondering what he was about to hear. On a chance, he reached over and lightly pressed his hand against Jon's back, but Jon flinched away, so Richie put his hand back on his lap. </p><p>"Do you believe that men that be raped?" Jon said, his tone blunt and harsh, and the words cracked the world in two. "Do you believe that men can be taken against their will? I don't suppose you do, but I hope, Rich, which is a dangerous thing." Jon rubbed the side of his face, looking exhausted and hurt. </p><p>Richie swallowed thickly. "Yes, Jon." He answered mechanically. </p><p>"Good." Jon looked pleased. "Because, Richie, I don't want you to...tell me that." </p><p>"Tell you what?" Richie asked. </p><p>"That what happened to me <em>couldn't </em>have happened because I'm a man and- " Jon broke off, and he fisted his hand in his hair. "I was fifteen. Doing jobs for some old lady down the road. Not <em>old </em>old, just old. She asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I said no." </p><p>"Dorothea?" Richie said weakly. </p><p>"Not yet." Jon replied. </p><p>"Okay." Richie said. </p><p>"She asked if I'd ever had sex. I said yes. Of course I hadn't. I was a kid. Dorothea was just some girl I copied notes from and the only real <em>experience </em>I had was when Dave and I would steal magazines." Jon said. "She asked if I ever wanted to, and I didn't reply. It made me uncomfortable. 'Course, I didn't leave. I should've." </p><p>Richie nodded. He knew better than to say anything. </p><p>"She repeated it. Asked if I ever wanted to have sex. I wanted to leave so bad but I couldn't, and so I just said 'maybe' and continued painting but she came closer and she <em>touched </em>me. She touched me in a place where I knew she shouldn't have, in a place where only the people who I wanted to touch me and who wanted to touch me back were supposed to. I just looked at her. She asked if I thought she was pretty." Jon was speaking in a monotone voice, now. </p><p>"And I couldn't talk. I felt like I was about to throw up because she was - God, she was <em>stroking </em>me." Jon looked like he wanted to die. "What was I supposed to do, huh? Go and tell my Dad and watch as he called the police or, worse, told me to stop being such a pussy? I knew that he wouldn't, but... I felt embarrassed. Ashamed. I asked her to stop but she didn't. She left and went back inside and I finished painting, 'cause I needed money, and then I finished and she said that she had something to show me." </p><p>"I went with her. She took me into her bedroom. Said she had something to show me. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just going with it. The bedroom looked normal. I asked her what she wanted, and she put her hands on me, and asked if I wanted to have sex <em>now </em>and I said 'no' but she didn't listen!" Jon's breath sped up, until he was close to hyperventilating. </p><p>"Hey-" Richie sat up, hands outstretched but not touching. </p><p>"She said that she would tell her husband if I didn't fuck her and he would mess me up and I did it. I had no idea what I was doing, man. I was just doing what she was telling me to do and hoping that it was right. Sometimes I would mess up and she'd smack me." Jon was rubbing the side of his face. </p><p>"Hey, hey. Let's calm down, okay?" Richie's voice went unheard. </p><p>"And then when I was done she gave me fifty bucks even though I was only supposed to get thirty and told me if I told my parents that she would tell <em>them </em>that I raped her and I said 'okay' and then I went home and took a shower and I ate dinner, but I got sick and they asked what was wrong but I couldn't Rich, I just <em>couldn't." </em>Jon looked fearful, as if afraid that Richie would rebuff him. "I hoped that it was over." </p><p>"But it wasn't." Richie said. </p><p>Jon shook his head. "No. She told her little friends and then they made me do it. I was the boytoy of the neughborhood. My parents found out about it soon enough and put a stop to it. But I begged them not to go to the police. Fucking cried until I couldn't say anything. I couldn't let that happen. They went and talked to the police, and fuck knows what happened after that." Jon sniffed. </p><p>"Oh, Jon." Richie sighed. </p><p>"They don't know the full extent. Didn't know what those bitches did to me. But, oh well. Dave was my rock for awhile. He was the only person that I trusted with my secret. I tried getting into drugs to drown the secret, but I don't have the mental stability for them.." Jon wiped at his eyes, but the skin around them remained suspiciously red. </p><p>"Oh, jeez. None of those things were your fault. Fuck. You didn't deserve any of that fucked up shit." Richie had no idea what he was supposed to say. He wanted to find those ladies and...make them regret ever touching <em>his </em>Jon, but loath for Jon to think that Richie was angry, of all people, <em>at him, </em>Richie forced himself to smile. "Thank God for Dave." </p><p>And then Jon leaned forward and allowed for Richie to hold him, and if Jon cried that night while Richie held him and swore that it'd never happen again, that he was safe now, well, then Richie wouldn't have told another soul. </p><p>And he didn't. </p><p>                                     ---<strong>1987</strong>-----</p><p>The third time Richie kissed Jon, it was met with a sweet, shy fervor. Jon closed his eyes and entangled his arms around Richie's neck and they kissed until their lips were swollen, and Jon was panting but he was pressing himself closer to the other man, as if wanting his touch. </p><p>Richie wanted to be careful. He didn't want to scare Jon, or hurt him, despite how much he wanted this, too. "Are you sure?" He whispered. </p><p>"Yes." Jon replied. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>